Missing Scene from Cigars of the Pharaoh
by Jelsemium
Summary: It bothered me that Herge didn't show Tintin being rescued when he, Snowy and Professor Sarcophagus were thrown into the sea. So, here is my version of what happened. It's AU because of some changes that I made.
1. All at Sea

Chapter 1: All at sea

A "missing scene" from Cigars of the Pharaoh

Because it bothers me that Tintin's rescue wasn't in the book. (At least, not in the version that I read.)

* * *

Tintin was walking through the tomb of the pharaohs, looking for Snowy and their new acquaintance, Professor Sarcophagus. He didn't have a torch, but there was enough light from the floating, flaming cigars to light his way.

"Snowy! Snowy! Here boy!" Tintin called. He knew the terrier had to be around there somewhere. The hieroglyphics on the walls depicted a fox terrier headed godling accompanying the god of film, Rastapopulos. Snowy wouldn't have strayed far away from the bony delights of the Pharoah's cigars… or were they Cuban?

Then the earth began to shake.

"Snowy! Professor! Earthquake! We have to get out of here at once!"

The first thought Tintin had when he opened his eyes was that the earthquake had intruded on his dreams and that the walls were tumbling down.

Then he realized that the walls weren't tumbling, it was the ground under them… no, not ground… Water!

Wait, he wasn't still on the cruise ship, was he? He tried to remember if he had tried any of the wine or champagne that he'd been offered. After a few seconds, he realized that he was encased in some sort of crate. He felt around, feeling panicky. Where was he?

He located the hinged side by feel. He braced himself on the bottom and pushed against the opposite side with his feet. He finally managed to get the lid off. That's when he realized that he was in a makeshift boat made from a sarcophagus… a floating coffin.

Off in the distance, he could see Professor Sarcophagus, but he couldn't make out what the older man was saying. He looked around frantically. Where was Snowy? He vaguely remembered his dream, but his aching head could not bring to mind why he had been so certain that Snowy was nearby.

Then he saw a small coffin floating near his. He leaned over and grabbed at it, grateful that the heavy lid counter balanced his weight or his sudden lunge would have sent him overboard for sure.

"Snowy? Snowy! Are you all right?" Tintin cried.

There was a muffled sound that didn't sound like barking. It sounded more like crying. The lingering effects of the gas made Tintin think of the story of Moses and for a few minutes he imagined that he would find a human baby instead of his beloved fox terrier inside the child sized coffin.

Part of him grieved at the loss even as he shook the thought off and pulled the coffin in closer. He pried the lid off and Snowy's white head popped out. A few seconds later, the terrier's pink tongue popped out and washed over Tintin's face.

"Snowy! My dear, dear Snowy!" exulted Tintin. He picked the terrier up and cradled the dog in his arms.

The professor yelled something, but Tintin could not make out the words. Tintin tried yelling back, but there really wasn't anything he could say but "hold on!"

A wave broke over Tintin's coffin and the water nearly sucked them both out. Tintin hung on with grim determination to the edge of the coffin with one hand and kept his other arm wrapped firmly around Snowy's mid section.

When the water cleared away, he could see that the small coffin was gone. He couldn't see the professor; his coffin was no longer in sight. Tintin couldn't tell if the other man had been washed away or if they had just been swept apart.

He couldn't do anything about that now. He had to figure out some way to save himself and Snowy.

The only thing that came to mind was a rather odd plan. All the running around Egyptian tombs had made him think of Egyptian mythology. That, in turn, had led his thoughts to Moses in the rushes, and to Dana and Perseus, who had been locked in a chest and cast into the ocean. They had all survived, Tintin was determined that he and Snowy would also survive.

The open coffin would soon fulfill its function if it sank. However, a closed coffin might have a chance of staying afloat. Tintin wrapped his legs around Snowy and held him tight, in spite of the dog's protests.

*I say, Tintin! I'm not a horse! Release me!"* Snowy yelped. Tintin could barely hear him over the wind. He grabbed the edge of the cover with both hands and managed to haul the lid shut again.

*NO! We're in the dark now!* howled Snowy. *Tintin, I'm scared!*

"Hush, Snowy," Tintin said. "We might manage to float ashore if we can keep the water out of the coffin."

*I'll be lucky to keep the water inside of myself,* Snowy, the well house broken pooch whined. His bladder was already full from being asleep for so long and whatever had put them to sleep hadn't helped any.

The crashing and jolting of the waves didn't help Tintin's headache or his nausea. He managed to keep all his internal fluids inside and keep the lid on the coffin for what seemed like an eternity. Then he felt the coffin begin to climb and climb some more. It reminded him of the time he went on… what was it the Americans called the thing… oh, yes, a roller coaster.

However, the roller coaster had been carefully controlled, in spite of what they would have you believe. This wave tossed coffin was going to be the death of him.

"I'm sorry, Snowy," Tintin said. "I don't think we're going to get out of this alive!"

Snowy's mournful howl drowned out the wind for a moment. Then, the coffin pitched down the other side of the wave and Tintin pitched into darkness.


	2. Fishing for Coffins

Missing Scene from Cigars of the Pharaoh

Chapter 2: Fishing for Coffins

* * *

The supplier swore that he had off-loaded the crates as usual.

The gun runner swore in frustration. "How could he be so stupid? Did he not see that there was a storm coming? My crates are probably scattered across Davy Jones' Locker! I have lost _thousands_ due to his stupidity! When I get my hands on that bilge rat, I will rip him to pieces and then feed him to the sharks!"

"Captain! There's a crate off the starboard bow!" the lookout reported.

Well, one crate out of a dozen wasn't good. However, it was still better than no crates. "Can you bring it aboard?" he demanded.

"We might be able to get a net around it," the first mate said. "It'll be tricky, though."

"Don't tell me about tricks!" howled the gun runner. "Tell me about success!"

"Aye, aye, Captain!" saluted the second mate. This was the man who had spent his childhood netting fish for a living before he turned to more profitable endeavors. He and the harpoon master had rigged up a method for fishing crates out of the water while on the move. It had proven very helpful on picking up contraband while evading the coast guard.

This time, however, the sea was also moving in a contrary fashion.

The second mate loaded the net.

The harpoon master aimed and let fire.

"SCORE!" howled the look out, throwing up his hands like a judge at a football game.

The men eagerly dragged what they hoped was part of their paycheck onto the deck. When they unwrapped it, however, they all jumped back in superstitious fear.

It was a coffin.

"Shall we push it back into the sea, Captain?" one of the crewmen asked nervously.

The gun smuggler hesitated.

The coffin was made of carved teak, if he was not mistaken. The teak alone would fetch a pretty penny. However, it was also inlaid with gold, ivory and ebony. The craftsmanship of the unusual ship was of the highest order.

Sure, whoever had placed the coffin into the ocean had intended it to go off to the afterlife with its cargo intact, unless the coffin had been washed out of some seaside cave. Still, the contents were apparently under the protection of some sort of deity.

The gun smugger hesitated, knowing that his men would be superstitious about robbing a coffin. However, anybody who was buried in a coffin such as this surely had to have even more riches INSIDE! He was about to order the men to open the lid when an unearthly howl arose from it.

"It's a ghost!" wailed the Moor.

"It's a banshee!" cried the Irishman.

"It's a _dog_, you morons!" the second mate said contemptuously. The second mate reached down and grasped the lid. He struggled to lift it, but something was apparently holding it down.

The harpoon master jumped in and the captain found himself joining in the struggle.

The lid finally popped open and a white dog leaped out and ran for the shelter of a pile of ropes. The smugglers, as rough and violent as any other crew on the Red Sea, leaped out of the way of the small, non-threatening animal. The gun smuggler only spared the fleeing animal a quick glance before investigating the sarcophagus.

"Who would put a dog out to sea in a valuable antique?" he wondered. His second in command walked up beside him and they could both see the motionless occupant of the coffin, a red-headed man… no, more of a boy, dressed in a European golfing outfit.

"Is he dead?" his second mate asked. He leaned forward to feel for a heartbeat.

"WOAH!" The white dog came pelting back to leap inside the coffin and take a defensive position on the boy's motionless body.

"Let me help," the gun smuggler said to the dog. He didn't expect the dog to understand his words. However, he knew from experience that dogs responded to a person's tone of voice and posture. He approached the sarcophagus slowly and carefully.

Still moving slowly, he reached his hand out to the boy's neck. The dog eyed him warily, but did not threaten to bite. The gun smuggler found a pulse, much to his relief. The crew would have no qualms about robbing a living man.

Besides, even though he was far from being a humanitarian, he wasn't the kind to kill people just for fun. He left that sort of mayhem to his customers. On top of everything else, he was cursed with curiosity. That's what led him to this lifestyle in the first place.

"Take him below decks," he ordered. "Treat any wounds you find. We'll discover his story when he wakes up." He hoped.

The dog followed his master as the gun smuggler's men carried him below decks.

The gun smuggler looked around, spotted a seaman who was too slow to get back to his regular duties. "You! Clean up that mess!"

The seaman blinked. "What mess, Captain?"

The gun smuggler pointed to the ropes that the dog had taken refuge behind. "The dog mess over there," he explained. "Why do you think the dog ran? He needed to relieve himself!"


End file.
